Punk-ish
by Webdog177
Summary: The concert is in a tight, dark little punk venue. Layers of graffiti scrawled over everything in sight, toilets you can get a disease from, and a ground-level stage for the bands with only a duct tape semi-circle to separate it from the rest of the floor. Half of the audience is playing tonight, or dating a member of the band. Mind the 'M' rating [Azusa/Yui one-shot]


A/N: I own nothing. This is for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: And here we have my contribution to the K-On! fandom (which is far less popular that it deserves)

Enjoy.

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 **Punk-ish**

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The concert is in a tight, dark little punk venue. Layers of graffiti scrawled over everything in sight, toilets you can get an STD from, and a ground-level stage for the bands with only a duct tape semi-circle to separate it from the rest of the floor.

Half the audience is also playing tonight, or dating members of the bands. It's the kind of place I'd spent most of my time of high school and university in, sneaking out at night - at least until I moved out of my parent's house - to catch the latest show, blending into the crowd, proudly bearing the symbols of both local and famous bands and my long, dark hair tied into twin-tails.

Now, the show just makes me feel old, nursing the beer that most of the kids here would need fake IDs to buy.

"C'mon, Ui, lets go. I want a venue with a bar," I say. I'm down to the last bottle I smuggled in. Kids in denim and fake leather jackets are flocking to an open box of cigarettes, hoping there are enough to go around. "The band members are the only ones even old enough to buy cigarettes here."

"Chill, Azusa. We always go to bars. I'm sick of them." Ui is my 'date' for the night; my straight girlfriend, the cornerstone of my relationship neither of us can - or wants to - mess up. I've never had an issue with staying in the closet, and that works both ways. Ui is a convenient anti-wingman that deters would-be suitors when I didn't feel like having the attention; from both the guys and the girls. And apparently, with me hanging around her, Ui has her pick of the guys. I never really asked how that worked for her, but there you go.

"Besides, I wanted to see my sister play before we left. I told you she's on the lineup tonight."

"Right," I grumble goodnaturedly. "You never told me why she was playing in this shit-hole. I mean, if she's as good as you say, wouldn't she play some of the more dedicated venues?"

Ui shrugs. "She likes these kinds of places. Her and her friends like to keep things small; have since high school." She pauses to look around, sending furtive glances to the far corners of the room. It was just a large warehouse, retrofitted to a makeshift concert hall. Grungy would be the best way to describe it, and even I would think twice about performing here.

"Though, even I'm a bit surprised that she's performing here," she finally says with a shake of her head.

The average time between sets is half an hour, but the next band - Ui's sister's group - is late, and we are starting to push forty-five minutes of the same Clash-era mixed soundtrack on loop.

Finally a group of four women walk onstage and start to set up their instruments. They're dressed conservatively - odd for a punk set - and for some reason I'm drawn to the guitarist.

She's average height, with shoulder-length brown hair that she brushes out of her eyes while tuning her guitar. The gesture is casual, speaking on comfort in her own skin. I like a girl with confidence.

The lights dim, and people drift from outside back into the room. The drummer counts down the rhythm and they start their first song. It's much more… poppy… that I expect, but after the initial shock wears off, I find myself tapping my finger on my upper arm to the beat.

The guitarist plays with a style I never would have thought would work; she's wandering around the stage, leading the others with her riffs and chords, and then somehow slithering back to the mic to sing the words to the song, as if she has never left that spot to begin with. It was both unsettling and awe-inspiring at the same time, how her upper body rocks back and forth to the beat of their song, torso moving to the fast-paced beat so that straining around her fitted shirt I can tell-

Oh, holy shit, she isn't wearing a bra.

"T-that's your sister?" I ask, straining to keep my voice level; conversational.

"Yeah, she's got great tits, right?"

I snap my head around to stare at Ui. "What?!"

She grins back at me. "I said, she's got great skills, right?"

Blinking, and feeling heat prickle along the back of my neck, I settle for a nod. "Yeah… she's, um, she's pretty good." Fuck you, Freud.

It isn't her sister's playing I'm referring to - although I had to admit it is impressive. She's pretty, soft features clashing against her surroundings in a way that screamed to me and made my body respond in a way that i hadn't felt in months… years even.

"So, um," I coughed into my hand, leaning close so Ui could hear me better. "I've never met your sister. What's she like? Does she… you know, like girls?"

What? I don't like to waste time.

To my questions, Ui blinks slowly, as if processing the words. "Huh, you know what? I legitimately don't know. I've never really talked to her about that kind of thing." Then her grin is back. "Only one way to find out!" She leers at me. "Though, I kinda hope she does; you haven't been laid in a while, and you're such a downer when you're not getting any."

I roll my eyes, willing the blush away from my cheeks and ignoring the fact that Ui is entertaining the thought of hooking me up with her attractive sister. Instead, I move closer to the band.

Contrary to the pop-centered style they are playing, a small mosh pit has formed, full of teenagers and young adults ramming into each other and singing along to what lyrics are understandable - is she really singing about her pen?

The guitarist is absorbed in her playing, jumping around the stage and singing into the mic, and what strains of her instrument I can hear are reminiscent of vaguely familiar styles, mish-mashed together is something wholly original. Or maybe it's wishful thinking. They're actually pretty damn good, but they're probably never going to have a following outside of the province.

I move in closer, hoping for a better look. Like, maybe her nails are short or something. An indicator would be nice. The overlap between a punk, or a musician and lesbian fashion sense has gotten me into trouble before. I think someone bats for my team, but then no, I've just got one pissed off straight girl on my hands.

So not fun.

I like the edge of her motions; jerky, like she means business, like she'd know how to fuck. So I chug what's left of my beer and toss it in the general direction of the garbage, and join the fray.

It's been a year or two since I joined a mosh pit, and a clip to my jaw reminds me of why I usually didn't partake. I'm small for my age - hell, small in general - and being lighter than most of the guys I'm moshing with, I get knocked around a lot. But rearing back and slamming into them is exhilarating. The mixture of pain and adrenaline puts me back in my body, giving off a high much more active than the sluggish alcoholic joy I occasionally get hooked on.

The song ends and my arm is aching, but in a good way. I'm closer to the "stage", so I have a better view of the guitarist. She's thinner than I thought, with the kind of perky tits that actually let you get away with going braless. Her eyes match her hair, and she lacks the usual thick, black mascara I've gotten used to seeing on performers these days. The unpainted face looks good on her, and the creeping feeling travelling past my belly to between my thighs reminds me that, while it hasn't been _years_ as Ui so eloquently said, it's been way too long since I've been with a girl.

The feeling spreads, and I know I'm wet, probably staining my underwear. I imagine the guitarists hand in my crotch, helping me along like she plucks the strings of her _Les Paul_ , and returning the favor back to her. She should have strong fingers, calloused from the first strings she plays. That's more that okay; I like it a little rough.

She talks briefly about their next song, but I'm not listening. I'm staring hard at her, wondering if she can feel my gaze, if the thoughts of what I want to do to her are sending a chill up her spine. Her eyes dart around the crowd, taking in the mood and reception they're getting, and then fall to me. They pass by me without so much as a flicker, and that gives me the determination to plow to the front of the pit as they begin to play again.

A boy with checkered bleach squares on his head knocks me father than I intended, and I crash straight into her. The guitar riff stops for a few seconds as she regains her balance, but this is a punk venue, despite their apparent preference for pop, so she doesn't look surprised, and soon picks up again as though nothing has happened.

Professional. Not a good sign.

I get back up and flash an apologetic smile, but her focus is back on the music.

Ui is laughing at me when I get back to her, so I smack her on the arm.

"Ow! Hey, don't take your screw-ups out on me. I can't help it if you suck at picking up girls."

Worst. Wingman. Ever.

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I wander outside as her band begins loading their instruments up into a small trailer. The guitar is packed away quickly, but the drummer is left running back and forth, carrying the awkward parts of her drum set. The others help, but it takes a while. The curse of drummers.

She leans against a wall, taking a break after stowing away some cymbals to watch the other's work. She fishes a cigarette out of her pocket. A hand rummages through another pocket, not finding what she wants.

"Need a light?" I walk over, lighter held up in greeting.

She looks up, bright eyes showing recognition. "Sure." Her voice is even, confident like her movements, with a slight lilt that tells me she's trying to play down some of her natural tone.

"Just wanted to apologize about trying to kill you earlier."

She lights the cigarette, sucking in as she holds up the flame to get the tip to catch. "Don't worry about it." Her nipples are visible through the T-shirt, temping little pebbles just begging to get sucked.

I realize too late that I'm staring. She has an eyebrow cocked high, more amused than angry. "It's usually guys who stare, you know."

I should mumble an apology and go back to Ui, who deferred from greeting her sister, saying she would just see her at home, but I'm horny and that makes me brave. "Hey, you've got great tits; it's hard not to stare."

She laughs, the badass body language gone for a split second as she's caught off guard. It's not what I was expecting, but her face softens and there's an impish humor behind it. "Well, that's an honest answer at least. None of the 'my mind just wandered and I wasn't really looking' stuff I usually get."

"What can I say? I'm a straightforward kind of girl." I've got one arm next to her, leaning against the wall. Muffled voices and untuned instruments drift out of the other end of the wall. "What's your name?"

"Yui."

"And do you happen to like girls, Yui?" I ask, leaning in more so I can feel her breath on my neck, thinking but hoping I'm not pushing too far.

"Depends on the girl, really. I don't usually come to shows looking for a date." Her mouth is barely open and I move in closer, lick her bottom lip, teasing, asking for permission.

She grabs my head and pulls my mouth on hers, fully covering her soft, strong lips. That's all the permission I need. I slide my tongue past her teeth and till her mouth with it. Her cigarette drops to the ground, and a hand clamps onto my ass as her tongue fights for control.

She sees something, and her lips retreat my say something. At first I think it's for me, but then I follow her faze to her bandmates watching is, all smiling obscenely.

"Fuck off, girls," she says, but her grin is sardonic - playful.

They laugh and don't move, saying things I can't make out.

"You wanna get outta here?" she whispers, leaning over me to tongue my earlobe.

An image of Ui leaps, unbidden, into my mind. But she's a big girl and get home by herself. "Hell, yes."

She pulls me into her car, leaving the van with all their instruments still waiting to be filled with drum parts, and we take off. The stereo is on loud, and she cranks is up as she drives. I slide a hand up her thigh until I've reached the crotch of her jeans and stroke her through the course fabric. Her breathing gets heavier and the car accelerates. Her hips grind against my fingers, and I can almost _smell_ how wet she is. Or maybe that's just me.

After a few sharp turns we're in an alley, slamming the doors to the car behind us. This time she's got me pushed up against the side of the car with icy fingers climbing up the back of my shirt and unsnapping my bra. There's no fumbling with the clasp, just one fluid motion that speaks of years of practice. She jams two fingers into my mouth, then three, and when I suck on then, she flashes a predatory smile.

"What's your name?"

"Azusa."

"I'm going to fuck you, Azusa." She says, and I nearly come right then. "I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to let you come," she slides her hand down my front, wiping my spit down to the zipper of my pants.

"Awfully cocky, aren't you?" I grin and pull her shirt up, revealing the pale breasts I've been wanting all night. I lick one nipple, swiping my tongue slowly up the hardened nub and then drawing the entire thing into my mouth, biting and sucking. I cup the other breast in my hand, massaging it and pinching her nipple. She lets loose a sharp exhalation and forces my head closer to her chest.

Soon my shirt's off too, and the freezing metal door presses against my back. My fly is undone and Yui's fingers are trying to nudge over my panties. She gives up and, with a low growl, pulls them down with my pants. There's no trouble for her to find my center after tham, and I moan gravelly from all the pent up frustration.

Circular motions bring me close, and I know if she penetrates me I'll come in seconds. But it's too soon for that, and way too one-sided. I yank down her pants in one fluid motion, and then were both standing there in the cold with our pants down around our ankles, like for year old boys learning to pee.

I explore, tug gently on her pubic hair, dig into her folds until out scents mingle. Without warning I push in, sticking two fingers deep inside her. She gasps and jackknives forward, one hand balancing on the car and the other holding my crotch. She slips a finger in, pucking all other thoughts out of my mind, and then first wave of orgasm hits my like a bodyblow. It's a little, physical thing, starting at her fingers and the sensation spreading through the rest of my body.

She starts pumping in and out. Both of us are inside each other, doing the same things. It's too difficult to keep a steady rhythm going when my entire body is so focuses on the one she's giving me. I want her to force me over the edge, take away any choice my mind has over my body feeling good. "Harder," I mewl, hooking my fingers inside her and tugging her closer to me. "Just fucking _fuck_ me."

Yui grunts and I almost hear her smile when she pushes on my wrist, removing me from her folds. "You got it, Azu-nyan."

Then she speeds up, her thrusts leaving me breathless. I try to spread my legs as far as their denim shackles allow while Yui bends down for better access. Strands of brown hair fall into her face, covering one eye. My muscles clamp down around her fingers as they pump into me, but she's going faster than I can and I'm quickly reaching a point where my entire body spasms while I'm occupying every inch of myself, feeling the orgasmic rush expand to encompass every part of me. It's verging on pain from too much at once, and that mixed with the pleasure and every other sensations assaulting me somehow forces guttural sounds from my throat, into the air, letting my new lover know that I am here.

The movements of her hand, her entire arm, slow to a gentle rocking until finally they cease completely and she draws her fingers out, letting them brush my clit and giving me one final jolt, before exiting completely.

"My knees are going to give out." I slide down the side of the car and breath deep. She smiles, the pride in her eyes visible.

"Follow me," she says after I've had time to regain some of my composure. She kicks off her pants and walks around to the back of the car, jerking open the backseat. I try to follow, but boots don't come off easily, and I'm still trembling and weak in the knees, so instead I trip over my jeans trying to waddle after her. She laughs.

"Fuck you. I'm sexy, and that's just part of my charm." The pants finally come off, shoes still on, and I jump in the car. The backseat is surprising roomy, and there are blankets and a pillow laid out. I know from experience that musicians sometimes sleep in their cars, so I'm not too surprised about that. We scramble in and shut the door, pressing freezing digits into each other's exposed flesh, the cool night still evident on our flushed faces.

My hands finally thaw enough for me to place them on her breasts. "It's your turn now."

"Oh yeah? Are you gonna seduce me?"

"Hell yes, I am." I lift her arms up over her head, pinning her wrists with one hand. She's bigger than me, but not too much bigger, and I can get a good grip. Then I kiss her, tongue deep in her mouth, licking her lips on the way out.

I have to let go of her wrists to move down, but she keeps them there, letting out a soft moan as I play with her nipples. This time around I take is slow, licking all around her areolas before letting the actual nipple into my mouth, biting a little before I lick them. I move further down, keeping the casual pace, using my mouth to appreciate the contours of her body, teasing her until her hips begin to rock back and forth, trying to thrust into my mouth. I lick the crevice between her lips and her thighs, working my through her pubic hair, and finally reach her leaking slit.

"You want it?" I ask.

"Yes." There's that edge to her voice that I liked so much, this time with a hint of desperation.

"How bad?"

"Fuck you."

I lick her again.

"Oh - I want it bad."

I plunge in, playing with her labia, her clit, finally tongue-fuckking her vagina and hitting her clit with my nose. I take in all the salty moisture until all I can taste is my own spit and her hips buck against my face, strong spasms that start out slow, reach a crescendo and back off with a finale of short, jerky spasms. Her hand snakes around to the back of my head, and she tugs me back up, kissing her taste out of my lips.

We hold each other for a while, avoice the inevitable nude run outside the car to collect out clothing strewn everywhere. The afterglow makes me lazy - but feel sexy - and I'd much rather stay there in the car, skin touching skin. Yui leans over and kisses me on the mouth. "What are you doing next week?" she asks.

I cock an eyebrow.

"We've got another show on Friday. A house show. In my house. Kind of more like a party with music. And… well, a little birdy told me you can play guitar."

I grin, inwardly cursing Ui and promising to give her the biggest glomp she's ever gotten in her life. "Count me in."

I nuzzle deep into the space between her neck and her shoulder. "Next time we can try a bed."

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 **The End**

A/N: Thanks for reading!

 _***Will work for glomps***_


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